


All Tied Up with String

by RiYuYami



Category: Good Omens (Radio), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Canon Related, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Radio Omens, Radio version of the The Trial from episode six
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-03-16
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:47:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23164243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RiYuYami/pseuds/RiYuYami
Summary: The quiet calm of hearing nothing from Heaven and Hell was a clear sign that they were going to contact them eventually, and Aziraphale and Crowley knew they only had one chance to make sure that they get out of it without facing the worst of the worst.Maybe a little help from a witch and the Antichrist can get them out of this impending punishment.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 22





	All Tied Up with String

**Author's Note:**

> There aren’t a whole lot of Radio Omens fics on ao3, or at least it’s rather hard to find content for it, so I’ve decided to contribute a bit.
> 
> Best I could come up with is them having to go through The Trial from the television adaptation, cause it always confused me that both Book and Radio Omens let them get off kinda scot-free but the show decided, oh no, that’s not happening.
> 
> So, yeah, enjoy the Radio boys having to survive their trials. I mean, you know how it ends, but still.
> 
> Warning: change to Radio canon, taking a few elements from Drama canon, does include the ending of the two living in South Downs together. There is also the hint that they’ve been a couple since Eden in this cause it’s my headcanon for this adaptation of the story, and if you listen to how they talk to one another, they clearly didn’t wait to be a couple, they just don’t admit to it cause why should they? Haha, but then again, that's just a headcanon and this is my story, so... *shrugs*
> 
> On with the fic!

“Angel,” Crowley spoke as he stepped into the kitchen from the back door, seeing said angel sitting at the table, a cup of tea in his hand, “we have a problem.”

“Oh no, it’s that boy from the other day again, isn’t it?” Aziraphale sighed. “What did he steal from the garden this time?”

Crowley shook his head, glancing at the backdoor. He gestured for Aziraphale to follow and the man stood up, following the other out. “I scared him off, he won’t be returning. No, this is much different, much worse.”

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow, until he smelled something, pulling a face. It’s been a while since he’s smelled such a scent, not since the Not-Apocalypse. “Sulfur…” He whispered harshly as he approached where the demon had stopped, seeing the scorch marks on the ground.

They were a signa, Crowley’s, but this wasn’t his work. He’d never mark his garden in such a way, not even as a threat to his plants. This was a letter for him, and Aziraphale felt his blood run cold. “Hell sent you something? Don’t they usually interrupt your programs to do so?”

“Haven’t done it in months, not since that day the world was supposed to end.” Crowley growled as he knelt down, touching at the signa. He lifted his hand, dirt and grass rising with it, taking shape into that of a letter. “They aren’t bothering with the easy stuff, they sent me a blasted letter, ain't that terrific I say sarcastically.”

Carefully, Aziraphale stepped closer, avoiding the ground, just in case. Didn’t want to hurt his feet on ground that could be corrupted now.

“'Demon Crowley, you are to be summoned to Hell at any given point between Tuesday and Thursday. We will give you no warning except this. We do not need to give you a warning, but we like instilling the fear that one will know they are to be executed in due time. It’s a joke to us, just as you are also a joke to us.

You cannot run or hide; we will come for you.’ Oh dear…” The angel frowned. “Crowley, what will you do?”

“I have no clue, go to Alpha Centuri or something, probably. This is not good, I knew that the quiet and calm was going to end, just didn’t think it would be so soon… usually they put off this kinda thing for demons like me until later, when they remember.”

“Ah, but you are a well-known demon, my dear.” Aziraphale sighed softly, shaking his head. “You’ve made quite the name for yourself, even before Beelzebub found out you were trying to prevent the end of the world.”

“My ‘bad deeds’ always do come back to bite me in the arse, don’t they?” Crowley glowered deeply at the letter, watching it burst into flames. “The bastards ruined my garden, now nothing will grow in that spot!”

“Well, you were thinking of installing something out there anyway, maybe a nice bird bath, or even just a normal fountain.”

The dark-haired man snorted, heading for the cottage. “No, you’re the one who wanted to install something, so you had something in my garden.”

“I did allow you to have those detective novels added to my shelves in the reading room.” Aziraphale replied as he followed him inside. “I think it’s a fair eno-oh good Lord!” He gasped, seeing something impaled into their table.

He was quick to push Crowley back, the demon tensed up as he felt the gentle waves of something holy radiating in the kitchen. “They found me too…” Aziraphale hissed, approaching the table with caution.

A long, thin, golden pin, much too long to be anything like the ones Shadwell used, seemed more like a hat pin, was stabbed into the table, through a letter. Carefully, Aziraphale removed it and looked at the end of the pin, where a golden design was on it. “It’s from the Archangels, this is theirs.”

Crowley hissed himself, backed up against the door. “Get rid of it, I can feel the holiness from it, it’s foul!”

Aziraphale glanced at him and waved his wrist, the pin vanishing from sight, and the demon sighed loudly, relaxing instantly. “What’s your letter say?” He asked.

“The same as yours, though not through a terribly executed joke. They are telling me that I will die sometime in the same time period as yours, but they have it as a ‘trial’ rather than an execution. Ah, I should have known, they wouldn’t let me get away with all the stuff I’ve done.”

“Stopping the Apocalypse, trying to prevent the war, getting too involved in Earth stuff…” Crowley started to count on his fingers, before smirking, “moving in with your adversary and sleeping in his bed at night, though sleeping could mean anything between us now, yes?”

He got a stare from the angel that meant for him to shut up. “Right, well… what should we do?”

Aziraphale sighed and crushed the letter in his hand. “I don’t know, I’ve never been one to be involved in the executions of angels. But… I know trials often result in punishments that are most dreadful. Falling is a problem, as is being de-ranked, and I’m already in the lowest tier of angels as it is, but there is of course… actual execution.”

“We’re not really easy to kill, angel.”

“There are ways, Crowley.” Aziraphale approached him. “Holy water for you, and you… you had some in your home for so long.”

“Since the 60s…” Crowley replied quietly. “I told you it was a good idea, having it as insurance.”

Aziraphale quietly nodded, he had seen the results of the holy water on the floor of Crowley’s flat when they came back to London after the Tadfield stuff. Crowley had explained to him what had happened, that those smears on his floor and on his desk were that of Ligur and Hastur, two demons who wanted to kill him.

“Hellfire for you.” Crowley spoke, snapping Aziraphale from his thoughts. He could see a look on the other’s face, a haunted look that passed so quickly. It’s been six months since that day, and Crowley still felt nervous about fires, thinking about the bookshop when it burned, when he thought he had lost his dearest companion to the fires of Hell cause he couldn’t sense him at all.

“That’s probably what will be used, we’ve broken so many rules, Crowley. We’ve broken the rules since 4004 B.C., it was only a matter of time before they caught onto these things, figured out about the Arrangement, about how we worked together, about…” He waved a hand about, then gestured to the two of them, “everything.”

“We don’t have much time; we only have two days to come up with a plan before the clock really starts ticking.”

The angel nodded and stepped forward, leaning against Crowley, suddenly feeling exhausted. “I was hoping they gave up on us. Not a word, not a letter, not a broadcast interruption in half a year, but now they decide to contact us, after we came out here, happily together in our little cottage. They know everything.”

“Still can’t believe it took them six thousand years.” Crowley replied, putting his arms around the other. “Wow, our bosses are so dumb!”

There was a loud snort before a laugh from Aziraphale. “Oh, I could have told you that, Crowley. Ah, but... what should we do?”

“Ask book girl? She still has that prophesy book, right?”

Aziraphale nodded, but then shook his head. “I’ve read through it, it says nothing about this, I’m sure. The predictions go up until the End.”

“Doesn’t hurt to ask. You never know, I bet some of those predictions were read wrong, or won’t come true until later, ya know? Cause didn’t you once tell me that Agnes Nutter’s work didn’t sell cause no one wanted predictions like the ones she gave?”

“I remember telling you that a while back, yes, on the way back to London in the stolen jeep.”

“Well then!” Crowley pulled him back, golden eyes meeting blue. “I think we should go and pester our human friends, what do you say?”

\--

Aziraphale nearly jumped when the book was dropped loudly onto the coffee table in front of him, he also nearly lashed his tongue at Anathema for just dropping such a rare book like that! He decided just to give her a hard glare, but she just sat herself down, waving a hand at it. “There you go! Just as you had returned it to me!”

She then glared at Crowley who just smiled happily at her, wiggling his fingers as if waving. “Burnt and damaged.” She snipped.

“I apologized! I wasn’t really expecting my car to be completely set on fire like that! Besides, it survived, didn’t it?”

“Over three hundred and fifty years…” Anathema started, until Adam sat down between Crowley and Aziraphale, throwing open the book.

“So! What are we looking for in here?” The possibly-former-Antichrist asked as he tried to read through the old script from centuries ago.

Crowley and Aziraphale had made the drive to Tadfield and had stopped by without much of a warning at Jasmine Cottage. Anathema and Newt had been there, with Adam over because he wanted to borrow the newest issue of the _New Aquarian_ from that month. He had gotten interested in what was going on when he heard the angel ask if Anathema knew of any prophesy meant to take place after the world was originally supposed to end.

“Anything that could do with what will save Crowley and me from dying a death worse than anything anyone in this room could ever imagine.” Aziraphale sighed as he took the book, setting it on his lap. Adam just looked anyway, leaning against him to do so.

“Didn’t this book, like, end when the world was ‘posed to?” He asked as he flipped a page, only for Aziraphale to flip it back.

Anathema leaned back in her seat, raising an eyebrow. “So, the forces of Heaven and Hell are really coming for you two? Why even give you guys a warning?”

“Because Heaven and Hell work like a business.” Crowley explained. “Basically, they gave us our pink slips.”

“Pink slips with the bonus message of ‘you’re going to die’, right?” Newt asked from where he stood, watching the group.

“Exactly!” Crowley smirked, but then returned to frowning, crossing his arms. “This is serious, normally our old sides don’t usually do this sort of thing much nowadays, ain’t like it was during the days of the Old Testament, what with all the smiting and cursing, that sort of thing.”

“What we’ve done is very serious.” Aziraphale spoke up as he flipped another page, eyes scanning the writings. He frowned deeply, running a hand through his dark locks. “They’ve figured out what we’ve been doing for six thousand years, because we didn’t… really do much when it came to stopping the world’s end. That was basically you three."

"Pretty much, yes," The demon tacked on, "doing all the real work for us, since we cocked up something big.” He ignored the pointed look he got for his language in front of a distracted Adam.

Newt tilted his head. “What have you two been doing for so long that they have to punish you with death?”

“Being in a relationship.” Crowley explained, only to get punched in the arm. “Ow! What the Heaven was that for!? Bless, angel, that hurt!”

Aziraphale glared daggers at him before straightening his back and tried to make himself look more presentable in comparison, but that didn’t erase the smug look on his face as he saw Crowley rub his arm. “As my idiot friend here said, Crowley and I are in a bit of a relationship that isn’t really what angels and demons would like. We’re technically enemies, yes, but we’ve never really been enemies.”

“Not since Eden, but that didn’t last long, did it?” Adam spoke up and the two looked at him with wide eyes. “Oh, don’t look so surprised! I’m the Antichrist! I know all about you two! Couldn't really hide anythin' from me, 's why I got you your body back, and your car and store too!”

“How much do you know…?” Aziraphale asked, his face as red as Crowley’s tie.

“Just enough to know that you two like kissin’ and stuff.” He took the book from the angel and started flipping through the pages, trying to see if anything looked interesting. “Needs pictures…” He mumbled to himself, ignoring how mortified Aziraphale looked and Crowley wanting to get up and go sleep in a hole in the ground for the next three centuries.

Anathema cleared her throat. “R-right, well, I’m sure there might be something in the book. Oh, now I wish we hadn’t burnt Agnes’ second book…”

Aziraphale gasped loudly, taken out of his shock. This resulted in him and Anathema arguing about the book burning, with Newt trying to calm them both down. Crowley watched the chaos in front of him with interest, while Adam completely ignored them all.

The boy stopped on one prophesy near the end, tilting his head. “How about this one?” He asked, showing it to Crowley, as he knew he wouldn’t get the other three’s attention as easily.

Raising an eyebrow, Crowley lowered his shades as he looked over the prophesy. “ _’When alle is sayed and all is done, ye must choose your faces wiseley, for soon enouff ye will be playing with Fyre.’_ Seems… interesting. What do you think?”

“I think…” Adam spoke, tapping his chin as if in thought, “I think you two might have to switch places.”

“What?”

“Well, this kinda reminds me of a time that me and The Them got into a bit of trouble and Brian and I both messed up but we took the blame for the other’s problem so that our parents wouldn’t punish us too badly and we’d just get a lecture from each other’s folks.”

Crowley sat there for a moment, pondering over this, ignoring the argument that was still happening, before he snapped his fingers, grinning. “Kid, I think you’re onto something! Angel, come on, we’ve got a plan!”

Aziraphale paused, mid rant, as he looked over at the demon and Antichrist. “What do you mean?”

Crowley took the book and approached the dark blond, showing him the passage. Anathema glanced over, blinking. “You think that’s meant for you two?”

“Did your ancestors ever figure out what it was for?” Newt asked.

“The notecard for it had two other ones stapled to it, no one could figure out what it meant, fit with too many things… it’s possible that it could be for you two.”

Aziraphale nodded at this. “Ah yes, I mean, Agnes did have one for me, knowing I was reading her book. She called me a foolish Principality.”

“Which you are.” Crowley replied, ignoring the look he got. “I think this is our best bet. Come along, angel, we’ve got work to do.”

He snapped the book shut, giving it to Anathema. He stepped over to Adam, giving him a thanks, before grabbing Aziraphale, pulling him along, ignoring his protests.

\--

St. James’ Park was just as it always is on a day like this; beautiful, enjoyable, full of people just doing their normal things.

Aziraphale found Crowley standing in line at an ice cream vendor and he slipped over, moving to stand to the right of the man in dark clothing. He noticed that the other wasn’t really wearing his trainers today but made no comment. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“Ah, same to you.” Crowley replied. “A strawberry lolly and a vanilla with a flake, yeah?”

The vendor nodded, getting their treats for them. Crowley glanced about before leaning closer to the other. “Anything at the shop?”

“Not a single feather or halo in sight. The flat?”

“Still empty, not even a burn or a note.”

Crowley took the treats, handing the ice cream cone to the more casually dressed man. “They’ll find us, they’re waiting for their moment to strike.”

Aziraphale frowned, giving his treat a taste as he stepped away, moving to walk with Crowley down a path they both knew well. “You don’t think they’re stupid enough to strike in broad daylight, do you?”

“Oh, I think they are.” Crowley sighed, almost dramatically. “They’re not subtle about things, not enough time spent on Earth to be so, what with how the texts have described our lots appearing to people in the past.”

“With too much flash and scaring the sh-” There was a muffled yelp and Crowley blinked, turning around sharply to see Aziraphale being pulled away towards a truck, used to pick up deck chairs around the park. He was suddenly bound and gagged with ropes and tape; blue eyes wide.

“S-Stop!” Crowley shouted, seeing that angels were dressed up as park employees, dragging the struggling man away.

He was shoved back by an angel he didn’t know, who smiled at him. “Best to take care of some unfinished business.”

Another suddenly appeared next to him, smiling as well. “Tied up with string, like a present.”

A blink of the eye, and they were gone, as was the truck and Aziraphale.

“N-no! Stop, give him back!” The dark-haired man shouted again, trying to find any evidence of them, only for there to be a sudden strike to head. He dropped like a rock to the pavement, his vision swimming as he looked to see a group of demons, grinning at him, dressed as humans.

“Oh… bugger.” He spoke before passing out.

\--

The scent of Hell was dreadful, Crowley didn’t care much for it, never had, never will. It was so unclean, so much like the worst kinds of damp basements, with just the slightest hint of fermented shark.

He found himself standing before several high members of Hell, but only Beelzebub seemed to be the one with a voice here. The other demons, all Princes, he noted, were behind the Lord of the Flies, in their own seats, but not the throne like the terrifying demon before him was.

“Yo.” Crowley replied, giving a little salute. “How’s it goin’? Public kidnapping, I see, feels like the old days. Gosh, did we use to do that back before the fall of Rome, or am I remembering wrong?”

“Demon Crowley…” Beelzebub started, but Crowley seemed more interested in his train of thought.

“I was remembering wrong, yes, it was during the fourteenth century. Uhg, dreadful century that one was, so much death and such, disgusting. Ah, but it’s in high praises here, isn’t it? So many souls for Hell and such. Anyway, you’re putting me on trial?”

Beelzebub growled, though it sounded much more like a swarm of flies buzzing in a tin can. Crowley made a face as he shoved his hands in his pockets. “Yezzzz… you are on trial; do you know why?”

“Cause… I did a lot of stuff you didn’t care for?”

“Be zeriouzzzz!”

Crowley scoffed, straightening his back. “I am on trial, which I doubt is a trial, because I have made an arrangement with an angel, our enemy. I have done countless acts of both temptations and blessing because of it.” He ignored he hisses and snarls from the audience of Princes and lesser demons.

“And I have been in a relationship with the angel Aziraphale, Principality of the Eastern Gate of Eden, since, well, Eden.” He replied. “Oh, and I killed two demons with holy water.”

This just caused more chaos from the audience, until Beelzebub turned and screamed at them to shut up. He turned and looked at Crowley, there was nothing but pure rage and disgust on his face. Crowley just stood his ground, and that only made his rage grow. “Demon Crowley, for what you have done… you will be punished.”

“I see, and I figured.” The dark-haired man replied, exposed eyes looking around. “So, what’s it gonna be? Eternity in the deepest pit? Having to be stuck continuously keeping the road of frozen door-to-door salesmen frozen, because that would suck, seeing as I’m the poor fool who made that road in the first place. Or is it going to be stuck on torture tryouts? Not really a fan of being the guy stuck having to be poked, prodded, and horrendously torn apart just to see if a new method of torture is worth it. Though I think, if I may make a suggestion, some of the stuff written own in Buddhist texts on hellish torment could be of use…”

“Zilence!” The Lord of Flies shouted, and Crowley snapped his mouth shut. “No, your punizhment will be none of that, all that will be like a walk in the park compared to what we have in mind for you. We’re going to eliminate you for good, as painfully as pozzible. Letting the punizhment fit the crime.”

There was a heavy silence in the room and Crowley tensed up, smelling something, a strong sent getting close and closer. A door opened and Crowley stared at an angel, he knew them, everyone knew them. They were infamous to all demons and angels, an Archangel who also happened to be a Seraphim for having been the one to take down the ruler of demons.

“Michael.” Crowley hissed, eyes wide.

The angel Michael looked at him with a smile that was as cold as the ninth circle of Hell. They didn’t say a word as they seemed to hold up a clear jug of something, the smell was obvious, so pure, so clean, something that not even an animal with the best nose in the world could pick up, but angels and demons knew it.

“Holy water…”

“The holiest.” Michael replied, smile still on their perfect face. It was then that Crowley noticed the bathtub in the room, when had that materialized? Michael approached it and tipped the jug, water pouring into it. The demons in the room gasped, keeping their distance. Crowley swallowed; hands clenched tight in his pockets.

The room was silent as Michael stood there, pouring the water in. But Crowley broke it when he looked at the angel. “How did you get roped into this?”

“We made a careful exchange, just for the occasion. Your ‘friend’ is dealing with one of yours from down here. Though, I’m sure he’s already been dealt with by now.”

“…” Crowley kept his mouth shut tight; his eyes focused on the water as it miraculously continued to pour from the vessel that clearly shouldn’t be holding that much water in it. What felt like hours was only a few minutes before the tub was full and Michael stepped away.

“I’ll return for it. And don’t worry, it’s real.” Michael spoke, dipping their fingers into the water, before flicking a bit at a demon guard who had been standing at the door, just in case Crowley tried to escape. The demon screamed, the scent of burning flesh in the air as his skin burned from just the little specks of holy water.

“… Lovely.” Crowley gulped.

“Any lazt wordz, traitor?” Beelzebub asked, looking down at him from his throne.

Crowley was quiet for a moment before loosening his tie. “Can I not do this in my suit? It’s really nice, don’t wanna ruin it, it’s still new.”

\--

Aziraphale gently tugged at the ropes bound around his wrists, frowning when he felt them tighten up at the movement. Great, lovely, okay, perfect, just terrific. He huffed, looking around at the polished, sterile look of the room he was in. Heaven was so terribly clean, plastic, it was like walking into a certain electronics brand store, only with a little more emotion to it.

He looked at the two figures before him, the Metatron, in all his bright, floaty glory. And an Archangel who Aziraphale really didn’t want to deal with, he was more annoying in person than he was through his stupidly stern letters and memos.

“Metatron. Gabriel.” Aziraphale greeted with his typical, clearly-annoyed smile he saved for customers that he knew he’d win an argument against without too much effort.

“Aziraphale.” Gabriel replied, all prim and proper, his hair tied up without a stray hair in sight. Aziraphale wanted to punch him.

“DO YOU KNOW WHY YOU ARE HERE, AZIRAPHALE?” The Metatron spoke, his voice echoing even more so in the spacious room.

Aziraphale sighed loudly, rolling his eyes. “Why even ask? You know exactly why I am here, tied to a chair, which I might add is a little cliché. Also, does God know you’re doing this? Is He aware that you’ve got one of His warriors tied up?”

“Shut up.” Gabriel frowned. “And tell us why you’re here, we want to hear it from you.”

The dark blond sighed once more, flexing his fingers. “I am here because you have discovered that I have spent time with a demon, in more ways than one, especially in the biblical sense. I also tried to prevent Armageddon, performed both blessings and temptations, and I moved in with my demon.”

He got nasty looks for that last bit, but he just gave them his smug smile. “Is there anything else? I could go into excessive detail of all the things I’ve done that have really went against our so-called Heavenly doctrines, but then again, you guys have been changing those things so often it’s hard to tell nowadays, yes?”

“AZIRAPHALE, IT IS BEST YOU STOP TRYING TO FIGHT, YOU HAVE NO OPTIONS OTHER THAN DEATH TODAY.” The Voice of God spoke, staring the other down.

“I figured that was the case, not even going to delay this, yes? What is the death? Not even going to give me the option of a Fall?”

“Ha!” Gabriel grinned, narrowing his eyes. “You’d like for that, just so you could be with your demon! But that’s not going to happen, he’s probably dead now anyway!”

Aziraphale snapped his attention to the Archangel. “He’s dead?”

“Quite possibly, Hell doesn’t like to delay executions like that, especially for traitors like him. And we shall not prevent the end for you either, as you are just as much of a traitor to your kind as he is.”

There was a quiet pause from Aziraphale, closing his eyes before bowing his head. “Alright, I supposed we do not have much else to do but to accept our fates at this point, am I right?”

“YOU ARE.”

Aziraphale saw someone approach, a demon he didn’t recognize, must be a lesser one. Oh, wait, it was a disposable demon, not sure why Hell had them, but then again… yeah, no, it’s a good idea that Hell has them, or else Hell would have a lot less demons to punish for stupid reasons and for their army for being so reckless in taking out stress on miserable idiots.

The demon was grinning, holding up a lantern, with a fire that had blue eyes widening. “Hellfire?”

“Oh yes,” The demon chuckled, too giddy about this, “from the hottest pit of Hell! The best, saved just for you!”

“Well…” He swallowed. “Guess treason gets the best of the best in terms of execution, the humans think the same with a sword to the back of the neck.”

Gabriel smiled; hands folded behind his back. “You’re right about that, you were such a smart angel, but also just a bit too stupid as well. Alright, let him have it.”

The ropes dropped suddenly and Aziraphale stood from his chair, stepping forward. The demon stood there, holding the lantern, opening the door. Aziraphale felt the heat from the fire before he turned to look at the Archangel and the Voice of God. He gave them a bright smile as he straightens out his sleeves and his bowtie.

“Well, lovely knowing you all. May we meet on a better occasion.”

“WE WON’T.” The Metatron replied. “IT’S HELLFIRE, IT WILL DESTROY YOU ABSOLUTELY AND UTTERLY AND FOREVER.”

“Now shut your stupid mouth and die already.” Gabriel smiled brightly, but it was strained.

Aziraphale stood there, giving a shrug, before the hellfire in the lantern suddenly flew out, engulfing the man in its flames.

\--

The Princes and lesser demons watched on in horror at the sight before them, at the water that spilled over the edges of the old, dirty tub, of the pleased humming from the figure who sat inside of it.

They stared in pure terror as Crowley, pleased as peaches, relaxed in the holiest of holy waters. He was down to his boxers and a tank top, and, oddly enough, his socks. In one hand was a book, one he had been meaning to finish reading, the other flicking water about as he hummed a merry tune to himself.

“What is he doing…” One Prince asked his brother, trying to keep away from the drops of water that were flicked in their direction.

“I don’t know.” Beelzebub replied, eyes wide. “But he’z gone native!”

“Ah, this book is so good!” Crowley said with a pleased tone to his voice. “I’d recommend it to you lot, but I doubt any of you would appreciate _Paradise Lost_ , you know?”

The door opened and Michael made their return. “I’m here for the…” Their bright eyes looked at the relaxing figure in the bath. “Oh Lord.”

Crowley glanced over, blinking, before grinning. “Michael! My good angel, would you be a dear and miracle me up a towel, that’s a good feather brain.” He chuckled when the angel handed him a fluffy towel that suddenly appeared in their hands.

Carefully, Crowley shifted, and the book vanished from his fingers as he looked at the demons and the lone angel. “I think that was one of the best baths I’ve ever had.” He commented, smiling happily.

He got out of the bath, rubbing himself down with the towel, miraculously becoming perfectly dry as it passed over his skin. He finished and stood there, looking at the scared and uncomfortable crowd.

“Well then,” His smile was smug, nearly cat-like, “I bet you’re thinking to yourself ‘if he can handle this, what else can he handle? What can his angel do?’”

There was a silence in the air, and he shrugged, moving to get dressed with a snap of his fingers, once more in his dark clothes, straightening up his red tie. “I think it would be for the best if we are left alone in the future. Don’t you?”

Beelzebub and Michael both silently nodded as Crowley flashed them a grin, putting his shades over his eyes, stepping towards the door, dropping the towel on the Archangel’s shoulder.

“Beautiful! Just lovely! Well then, so long!”

\--

The Metatron, Gabriel, and the lesser demon stared in shock and terror as Aziraphale stood in the fire without any trouble, in fact, it almost appeared as if he was enjoying it as one would enjoy a nice, hot shower after a long day.

He cracked his neck and turned to look at them. He smiled before throwing back his head and spewing hellfire at the two celestial beings, who were quick to back away in fear. Gabriel yelped when his suit nearly caught on fire.

Aziraphale smirked, his grin almost devilish.

“HE’S… NOT ONE OF US ANYMORE.” The Metatron spoke, his echoing voice nearly shaking.

Gabriel nodded numbly and gestured for the demon to close the door for the lantern. The fires died quickly and Aziraphale stood there, gently dusting soot off of his shirt and coat. “Luckily for you, this didn’t burn.” He commented, his cold eyes on the two angels.

He then brightened up and chuckled. “It seems that not even Heaven’s strongest punishment can work on me, how interesting. So, what happens now?”

“WE HAVE NO CHOICE… BUT TO LET YOU GO.”

“Smart move there.” He adjusted his bowtie once more, stepping away from the three as he made his way for the elevator, throwing a hand up over his shoulder with a small wave. “Ciao!”

The elevator dropped down to the main floor, just as the elevator next to it rose up to the same floor. Aziraphale stepped out of his, turning to look at Crowley who was walking with a relaxed swagger, turning to face his companion.

“Now _that_ was playing with fire.” Aziraphale said in a tone that was not his usual one.

“Seems you were right.” Crowley replied, his voice lighter in tone, the smile on his face like that of a cat that ate the canary.

\--

They found themselves on a bench in Berkeley Square, keeping an eye out for anyone who was not human. Crowley sat, straight back and rather proper, hands on his lap. Aziraphale was to his right, leaning back, a leg crossed over the other.

“Do you think they’ll leave us alone for good now?” Aziraphale asked, looking at the man sitting next to him.

“Hmm… at a guess, they’ll pretend it never happened.” Snake eyes looked around. “Right, anyone looking?”

Aziraphale shook his head after a quiet pause, holding out his hand. “Nobody. Right, swap back then?” He smirked as Crowley took his hand and the world around them froze.

It took just seconds in that frozen bubble for Crowley’s clothes to change to that of a tan coat, tartan bowtie, and a blue shirt and dark pants. His dark locks changing to dirty blond, styled much differently. The face was completely different, and the eyes were much more human-like in appearance.

Aziraphale’s own clothing choice became black, with the bowtie becoming a crimson tie, his dress shoes now dirty, red trainers. His hair was black, slicked back, and humans eyes became those of a snake.

They were themselves once more, no longer wearing the faces of their counterpart. Crowley cracked his neck as Aziraphale shook himself out, reaching up to remove the dark shades from his face, handing them to the demon. “Why’d you make me wear dress shoes?” Crowley asked, happy to be in his more comfortable pair.

“Because I have standards, and I didn’t want to wear those old things.” Aziraphale replied as time started up again.

Crowley shrugged, scooting closer, wrapping an arm around the angel. “Right, well, now that we aren’t dying today and we are back in London… might I tempt you to a spot of lunch?”

Aziraphale looked at him, chuckling. “Hmm… well, temptation accomplished! Ah, you know what, I do suspect that a table for two just opened up at the Ritz, my, who expected that! Must be a miracle!”

He rose from the bench, taking Crowley’s hand as the two of them walked down the path to make their way to their favorite place. Today calls for a celebration, neither of them died, Heaven and Hell fear them, and they know they’ll be left alone to live out their immortal lives without the trouble of nosy bosses.

And what better way than a date at the Ritz.

END

**Author's Note:**

> I made a few minor changes to the trials, simply because I really didn’t want to write for a lot of characters, and because I took some inspiration from the script book for it.
> 
> I also really like how much more cocky and snarky Radio Aziraphale and Crowley are, they really are that smug, especially Aziraphale.
> 
> I should note that I kept mentioning Aziraphale as a dirty blond, or a dark blond, cause I really can’t tell what color his hair is! I’ve seen pictures of his actor and some images have dark hair, others have a lighter tone, I know it’s the lighting, but it’s the same thing as Michael Sheen’s eyes being hazel/blue/gray in different lights, so for the sake of Good Omens... he’s got dark blond hair, nearly brown.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Please comment and kudos!
> 
> Also, one-shot and drabble requests are always opened on my tumblr, trashboatprince, and here, so if you send me a comment, I might be able to write up a prompt if you have one for me.


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